Impending
by Lizinnv
Summary: It turned out that living his life as though Phillip Stroh didn't matter didn't work so well.
1. Impending

It had been four months since Phillip Stroh's escape.

He had gone back to school and pretended to live as if everything were normal. It turned out that living his life as though Phillip Stroh didn't matter didn't work so well.

He had made new friends, and the better he got to know them, the more he worried. Was hanging out with them putting their lives in danger? He didn't think anything would happen at school, in broad daylight, with hundreds of other students around. Only a psychopath would attempt something in those circumstances. But it seemed as though Phillip Stroh had plenty of psychopathic friends, and the more Rusty thought about it, the less comforting surrounding himself with college students became.

So, perhaps counterintuitively, he had been spending more and more time alone. He cut most of his classes, showing up only when absolutely necessary. Sharon would be so upset if she knew. And he felt terribly guilty about it. She was paying for his education, after all. But more than that, she _wanted_ that life for him. She wanted it so badly, and he was mostly skipping out. But how could he put all those people in danger, day after day, and maintain a clear conscience?

If having friends was not an option, dating anyone was out of the question. Early in the semester, he had met Sean. Sean was smart. He was funny. He was nice. They liked the same TV shows and movies, and he was just generally fun to be around. Sharon would have approved - he was actually a few months _younger_ than Rusty.

Sean was what actually got Rusty thinking this way, about how his mere presence might be putting other people in danger. When he had asked Rusty out on a date, Rusty had almost gleefully said yes. His first attempt at asking someone out hadn't gone so well, and Rusty was wary to do it again. But Sean had done it for him, and they felt the same things about each other. He was over the moon, for a while anyway.

They had gone to see _Kingsman: The Secret Service_, and at dinner afterwards Sean had started asking all the questions. About his _childhood._ And his _family._ As he sort-of evaded the questions, giving the truth when he could, but half-truths mostly, Rusty's mind began to wander. Would it always be this way? Certainly with Phillip Stroh hanging over his head. That might be forever. And then his mind was on Phillip Stroh and he couldn't think of anything else. A guy walked into the restaurant, a man in his forties who looked vaguely like Stroh - same build and hair color, and Rusty's heart began to beat a little faster. His skin grew clammy.

Sean was oblivious. He continued to talk about his parents and his sister in between bites of his hamburger. If they were going to be spending time together, maybe Rusty should tell him. Warn him of the danger. The more he thought about it, the more he felt he had an _obligation_ to clue Sean in. Certainly Sean had the right to know he was dating someone whose destiny was intertwined with a serial killer on the loose.

Rusty abruptly stood up. "Uh, Sean...this has been great, but I have to go, sorry." He put forty dollars on the table and left Sean there, a confused and hurt expression on his face.

Rusty thought about it obsessively over the following few days and weeks. He would feel compelled to warn anyone he dated of the danger. And who would want to be around him then? The right person wouldn't care about his past, but then it became even more important that the right person stay out of harm's way. It was just better if Rusty never got involved with anyone. Never loved anyone. He would be dooming anyone who chose to stick around to a life of danger and of fear and anxiety.

Like he had done to Sharon.

Sharon wasn't doing well. She had hired a secret security detail for him in the beginning, but they had been easy to spot. The same two people in the hallway at school, at the library, at In-N-Out? It had been obvious. He had been angry. Too angry, and he felt bad about it now. For the first time in over a year, he had yelled at her. She turned her back to him as her hand went to her forehead and then slid down to her mouth. When she turned back around a minute later, her words had been simple.

"OK, Rusty. No more security detail," she whispered weakly. Then she walked shakily into her bedroom. Sharon didn't always get what she wanted anymore, and somehow that didn't make him feel as triumphant as he thought it would.

As far as Rusty could tell, she didn't go anywhere but work and home. No dinners with Andrea or Andy or Gavin. No shopping excursions. The lock on the front door had been replaced with something more heavy duty. "Why didn't you tell me you wanted an upgrade when I was here a few weeks ago?" the locksmith had wondered aloud. "Sure would've saved you some money."

Now she texted him constantly, at least four or five times per day. He tried not to resent it, calmly texting her back, and only lying about where he was if he was supposed to be in class but wasn't.

Her kids had come to visit for her birthday last month. At first, Sharon had told them no, don't come. But eventually even she realized that she couldn't live her life never seeing her other kids again because of the nebulous threat Phillip Stroh presented. So they had come. Sharon was as happy as she possibly could be, but she spent most of the visit in cop-mode, making the three of them walk ahead of her, sitting in restaurants where she could keep a close eye on the entrance and only barely able to follow the conversation. He could tell Ricky and Emily resented it. They didn't understand how he was worth it, he could tell. He didn't really understand it himself.

Sometimes he went grocery shopping. Sharon would come home, open the refrigerator, and turn quickly towards him. "You went to the store?" she would sigh, as if he had gone cliff diving or something. "Next time, we should go together."

For about ten seconds he had thought about suicide. But everything he had done for the last seven years of his life was about survival. Rusty _wanted to live_.

He thought about getting a gun and learning how to use it. But guns creeped him out. Some of his mom's boyfriends carried guns; frightening men who liked to wave the weapon around and show it off. Sometimes when they were mad. Usually when they were drunk. Often times they were both. And once, when he was living on the streets, a date had pulled one on him. Rusty had been really scared and cooperated with what the guy had wanted, the whole time just hoping this wasn't the end. Afterwards, the guy had laughed said it was just for fun, wasn't it exciting? Terrifying and exciting were not synonymous in Rusty's mind.

Another option was doing what Sharon wanted. The security detail. But Rusty wanted to live _freely_. And even with the security detail, Sharon would worry. She hadn't stopped worrying when he had the detail before. Their lives - _her _life - would still be dramatically altered. And for how long? Phillip Stroh might never be found again.

There really was only one choice. Emma had made it clear it was still on the table. Sharon would be heartbroken, of that Rusty was sure. He still wasn't sure why Sharon loved him as much as she did, but that she did was never in question. He had never been so certain of anything in his life. She made sure of it. Broken hearts can be mended with time. Maybe they were never the same, but it was possible to be happy again. He had experience with that.

This was really the only one of his options that left him alive, safe, and free. The only option that would allow Sharon to have some semblance of her life back. If he hadn't ruined her life before, his presence was certainly ruining it now. Knowing that he was alive, safe, and free would at the very least take some of Sharon's crippling anxiety away. It would allow her kids to visit without concern, it would allow her to go out to dinner with friends again. Those things made her happy.

They were sitting together at the table now. Sharon was sitting at one end, absorbed in whatever was on her laptop. Rusty never really thought about it, but he knew she was pretty. Beautiful even. He was not sure why that was coming to his mind now. Maybe because she was starting to look different. Still beautiful, but older. Tired too. Really tired. He knew she had nightmares.

He looked down and stared at his cereal, pressing some of the now mushy flakes to the side of the bowl. Tears began to sting at his eyes.

"Sharon?" His voice was steady, surprisingly. He was sure.

"Hmmm?" She hummed, but didn't look up.

"I think I should do witness protection."

**This may be a one-shot - or maybe not. Depends on if I can get the foggy mess of words and ideas in my head to resemble something coherent. **


	2. 2030

**Notes: **I took the easy way out and skipped the hard stuff! It's probably the only way I could ever get anything published. Thanks everyone who offered a kind word. It really means a lot.

**2030**

Sharon was sitting at her desk, reading a text from her granddaughter who had just won her elementary school's science fair. _Cricket Metabolism_: _Do large crickets have a higher metabolic rate than small crickets? _ Sharon grinned. This had not been Emily's favorite project. Especially when the crickets got loose in her kitchen. When Sharon had laughed about it, Emily's dry response had been "if you find this so funny, the subjects of the Mad Scientist's next experiment can live in your condo."

Still smiling, she replied. _I'm so proud of you! Can't wait to see your project tonight. _

She was still looking at the picture of Sophie holding a cricket in her hand when the phone rang.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise as she stared at the caller ID. "Emma! What can I do for you?"

"Commander Raydor, do you think, um...I'm in your neighborhood. Do you think I could drop by?"

"Sure, Emma. I don't have anywhere to be until this evening."

"Thanks. I'll be there in ten minutes."

Sharon hung up the phone and frowned. There was a very short list of reasons why Emma Rios might need to talk to her. All of them had to do with cases that were still hung up in court. Despite being retired, Sharon was still needed to testify in court now-and-then as the cases she had worked slowly slogged their way through the justice system.

Or, maybe it could have something to do with...no. She could _not_ get her hopes up. It had happened too many times before. In the very beginning, as leads trickled in and the case was still a news story, it happened almost every day.

_An employee at American Storage remembers someone who looked like Stroh. "That storage unit hadn't been opened for almost four years."_

_An Uber driver thinks he took Stroh from American Storage to Palm Springs. "Called himself Dr. Tom."_

_A used car salesman in Palm Springs sold a white 2008 Toyota Camry to a man who looked "a lot like him, yeah. Paid with cash. Said he was a dentist, or a doctor, or something."_

Such promise that ultimately led to nothing. Sharon shook her head as she went to answer the knock at the door. It wouldn't do her any good to rehash old leads.

She opened the door to an eager-looking if harried Emma Rios. "I'm sorry for dropping by on such short notice Commander."

"Emma, I've been retired for five years now. I'm just Sharon now."

"OK...Sharon. Anyway, I suppose I could have told you this over the phone, but I was in your area when I got the call, and I, well, I just wanted to talk to you in person. I'm really hoping that…"

Sharon interrupted her. "Emma, just tell me why you are here."

Emma looked strangely giddy.

She and Emma had gotten off to a rough start, certainly. But over the years, Emma had calmed down a bit. Her combativeness now came across as passion and her hostility was reserved mostly for suspects rather than her witnesses or coworkers. Probably most importantly for their relationship, they didn't have conflicts over Rusty after he had left. So while they never became friends, exactly, Emma respected Sharon's experience and wisdom, and Sharon respected Emma's willingness to grow.

"He's dead, Sharon."

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, Sharon thought 'he' was Rusty. But Emma surely wouldn't have come here, excited and breathless if that were the case.

"Who's dead?"

"Phillip Stroh."

Sharon's hand flew to her mouth. In the fifteen years since Stroh's escape, there had only been a few leads after the initial onslaught from the tip lines. The most promising had been seven years ago.

"_Commander Raydor, I am Detective Jason Leese of the Vancouver PD. I was wondering if you might be able to help me with some interesting homicides we have up here."_

_Four raped and murdered women. Blonde. In their early twenties. Very little physical evidence. Except._

"_These murders are fairly old, Commander. But the freshest body had been dead only two weeks when we found her. This body had a few skin cells underneath a fingernail that weren't hers. Killer wasn't as careful with this girl for a reason yet to be determined. We ran the DNA through the INTERPOL database and it comes back to a Phillip Stroh. I believe your department is familiar with him?"_

She had gone up there for a month. Brenda had taken a leave of absence from her job in DC and joined her. In the end, nothing had come of their investigation, other than more security footage of Phillip Stroh from behind as he talked with his future victims. The devastated families of four murdered young women were left without justice, Stroh had disappeared again, and with him Sharon's hopes of ever seeing Rusty again.

She opened her door wider and ushered Emma over to the couch, not ready to speak yet.

"He was in Miami. I guess he didn't like being up north. A boater found a body out in the swamp four years ago. It had been there at least a few months, so the body was in bad shape. You know - mostly eaten by animals, hot, wet, humid conditions. The only reason that anything was left at all was because the body had been…"

Sharon had to smile to herself. There was a time when Emma wanted to know as little as possible about the gruesome details of dead bodies, and here she was expounding at length about the condition of Stroh's body when there was really only one thing Sharon cared about.

"...but they were able to get a DNA sample. This body wasn't a high priority for them, and as you know everyone has a backlog of DNA samples to test, but they finally got around to it. Anyway, the DNA test came back to Stroh. Looks like he was murdered, blunt force trauma. I guess that should hardly be surprising, considering…"

Sharon could hardly think straight as she listened to Emma's rambling.

"...don't have any suspects, but…"

Sharon interrupted her again with the only thing that mattered. " What about Rusty?"

"That's just it, Commander. My office is in the process of contacting him. There are, of course, several layers of red-tape to cut through. But hopefully we'll be able to talk to him soon."

All these years, all Sharon was ever able to learn was that he was alive. She was lucky to get even that information - a privilege of her position, she knew.

Her mind wandered to the last time she had seen him.

XXXX

He was saying his goodbyes to the team.

Her tears started when she watched as Lieutenant Provenza pulled Rusty in for a tight hug and said something quietly in his ear. Rusty gave him a slight smile and then nodded solemnly at the lieutenant before making his way towards her office. The lieutenant walked back to his chair and turned it around to face the blank murder board. One of his hands went up to his brow, covering his eyes. She thought she heard a strangled, choking sob emanate from him through her open door. Just one. The rest of the team sat pensively, staring at their desks.

Rusty came into her office, and she tried one last time. "Honey, you don't have to do this."

"Yes I do."

He had always been so sure of himself once he had made up his mind about this. Truthfully, Sharon felt conflicted. Everything Rusty said, all of his arguments were true. They, the both of them, weren't safe. The reasons Rusty should stay ultimately boiled down to _feelings_. She loved him. He was her child. Somehow it seemed that all those reasons for him to leave paled in comparison the simple truth of love and family.

He looked away from her briefly and drew his bottom lip between his teeth.

Two nameless men in suits entered the murder room and gestured for Rusty to go with them. She had only known Rusty for three years. In that time, he had grown into an adult, but somehow it felt like she was giving her three-year-old away to strangers. They were always three.

He must have read her mind. "I'm going to be okay, I promise. _Sharon_." He said her name sternly, drawing her eyes away from the strange men and back to him. "I know I'm going to be okay because of everything you've given to me."

She glanced towards his old backpack, sitting empty on her desk. He wasn't allowed to take anything with him.

"Sharon, before you I never really thought about having a future. I lived day-to-day. I didn't think I could be in a real family, and now I know I can. _I know_ I need to look for that. That's what I'm taking with me."

Her heart was hurting physically - a cold pain that was slowly radiating outwards toward the rest of her body. When it hit her lungs, she could hardly draw a breath.

They both reached for each other at the same time. The embrace was fierce and hard, but short. The longer, more clinging hugs had happened in the privacy of their home that morning.

She drew back and looked directly into his eyes while not-so-gently holding his face between her hands. "Rusty, _you are loved_. Always."

XXXX

She hoped to God he had remembered that.


	3. Always

**Always**

_He is running fast. His heart is pounding. He is supposed to be safe now, but instead he is running for his life. Branches reach out to him - long, thin, and hard, scratching his bare torso and legs as he runs by. His pursuer is nameless, faceless. Someone who wants to do bad things to him._

_Running. Running through the dark. Shallow breaths. So hard to breathe. Finally, he enters a clearing. There is someone there, standing next to a cliff - someone he knows, someone he trusts, someone who makes him feel safe. She stands there, arms outstretched. "Whatever happens next," she says, "I love you."_

_His heart rate drops, his breathing grows steady. He stretches his arms out, reaching towards her too._

_Just before their fingertips touch, his arm turns into a shovel. Big and heavy, he swings it wildly, watching helplessly as it collides with her face. She falls backwards, off the cliff. "I love you. __**Always**__," he hears as she plummets. He stands there, horrified at what he's done. Falling to his knees, he begins to weep. From behind, he hears rapid footsteps. His pursuer had caught up to him. Before he can stand back up and turn around, he, too, is pushed off the cliff._

With a start, he enters a partial state of consciousness and doesn't feel relief. Someone large is pressing up against him, whispering in his ear, touching him, kissing him. He struggles furiously, trying to push him away.

"Hey, hey, Ross. It's ok, you're ok." Ross finally becomes fully conscious and opens his eyes, focusing them on the man who is hovering worriedly nearby but no longer touching him. "It's just me. You were having nightmare and I wanted to help. I'm sorry...I didn't mean...I'm sorry."

Finally, relief washed over him. He let out a shuddering breath and then sat up to place a quick kiss on Seth's temple. "Don't apologize, Seth. I just...you know."

"I do." Seth looked at him knowingly. "And I don't ever want to be the person who makes you feel that way. So I _am_ sorry."

Ross leaned in to kiss Seth more fully and then rested his forehead against Seth's. "You aren't ever that person. I was dreaming, that's all."

Seth tentatively placed his hands on Ross's chest. "Want to talk about it?"

"Nah...same old, same old."

Seth pulled his head back and gave Ross a concerned, searching look. "All right," he said finally, turning around and swinging his legs off the bed. "Your turn to make breakfast. Her Royal Highness will be awakening soon."

Ross groaned and threw a pillow at Seth's form which was rapidly disappearing into the bathroom.

XXXX

"I don't like eggs."

Ross sighed. "You liked eggs yesterday."

Seth looked at Ross over his glasses. "Ross, you should know better. Yesterday was Thursday," he said in mock seriousness. He took a sip of his coffee. "Friday is the best day for coffee, you know."

"Papa. Stop making fun of me."

Seth grinned at the little girl and then reached over to ruffle her hair. "Sorry, kiddo," he said genuinely. Clara was sensitive these days. "But you should try to understand why it would frustrate your father to have a child who changes her food preferences on what seems like random whims."

"I changed my mind. Daddy said it's okay for people to change their minds."

Ross shrugged. "I did tell her that. But not in the context of food. I believe we were having a discussion about bedtime. You've been grumpy in the mornings lately and I think you need more sleep than a nine o'clock bedtime allows. I had a good reason for changing my mind and making your bedtime at eight-thirty."

"If you can change your mind about bedtime, I can change my mind about eggs."

They both turned their heads toward Seth, whose eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Well then. I guess what's good for the goose is good for the gander."

Clara smiled triumphantly.

Ross sighed again. "OK. Fine. Clara, just eat your toast and your banana then. And if you get hungry before lunch, try to think long and hard about whether you really don't like eggs next time."

"Knock, knock!"

"Aunt Julie!" Clara jumped up from the table, leaving behind her entire breakfast to hug the woman who had entered entered their house.

"Hi there, peanut." She gave Clara a once over. "Hey, who did your hair today?"

"Papa. Daddy made breakfast - eggs." Clara scrunched up her nose and Ross rolled his eyes.

"I see." Julie turned to Seth who waited for her verdict expectantly. "It looks great today, Clara. Papa did a good job."

"Hi Jules." Seth put his coffee cup in the sink and gave his sister a peck on the cheek. "Thanks for taking Clara and me to school again. God, I hope they finish up with my car today. Clara, if you aren't going to eat, go put your shoes on. We can get to school early. You have some extra time to play and I can work on lesson plans."

"OK. Can I wear my red sparkly shoes?"

"You can wear whatever you want. Just hurry." The little girl skipped off down the hallway happily.

"She's going to be hungry."

"Yes, and maybe she'll learn something."

Julie picked at Clara's plate. "Tastes great to me. That girl doesn't know what she's talking about."

Clara returned to the room wearing her red sparkly shoes, her backpack, and a pair of large pink sunglasses. "Ready!"

Seth quickly kissed Ross goodbye. "Love you."

"See you, Ross." Julie said as she walked out the door.

Ross knelt down next to his daughter. "Hey, Clara. _You are loved. _Always. Whatever happens - today or any day."

"_Daddy, I know. _You don't have to tell me everyday."

"No, I don't have to tell you everyday, but I want to. It's important." Clara rolled her eyes but she was smiling. "Have a great day at school, kiddo. Remember, I want to hear at least one thing about it tonight."

"_Daddy, I know. _You don't have to tell me that everyday either. And_ I know_. Be kind and be safe."

Ross pulled her in for a tight hug and planted a kiss on top of her head.

XXXX

"That's generally the purpose of castling, Maya. Your king starts out in a very vulnerable position, so usually it's a good idea to get him out of harm's way early in the game." Maya was new to the chess club this year, but she had made great progress. She was a quiet, smart girl without many friends. Ross suspected problems at home, which is why he had suggested the chess club to her.

"OK, I'll try it next time. Thanks Mr. Haskins."

"You're doing great. You have to lose a lot of games before you can win them." He smiled at her, and then started to move to the next table, but Maya stopped him, a hand on his arm. She gestured to the door where two people had entered.

"Ross Haskins?"

"Yes. What can I do for you?"

"We need to talk to you. If you'd just come with us, sir."

Ross stared at the man and woman who had entered his classroom. A feeling of dread overcame him. For people who were supposed to be inconspicuous, it was obvious to Ross who they were.

The students had all stopped focusing on their games and were now watching the exchange intently. It would be best if the kids left. He adopted a cheerful demeanor. "OK, everyone. Let's call it a day. Before you go though, I just want to say it's been so nice working with and getting to know all of you. Congratulations to those of you who are graduating, and I hope to see the rest of you next year. Good luck on your exams next week and have a good summer!"

Ross watched the small group of kids shuffle out of the classroom, accepting hugs from a few graduating seniors. Once they had all left, he turned to the people he knew were from Witness Protection. They were always different, but always the same.

In the first year, Ross was required to meet with them once a month. Then biannually until year five. Annually until year ten. And then every five years indefinitely. He had just met with them last month and wasn't supposed to hear from them again until 2035. Unless there was some change in his situation. Which is why Ross was very uncomfortable. A change in his situation could be very bad for him. For his family.

"We thought you were advised _not_ to join any chess clubs or groups," the man said accusingly.

"Is that what this is about? Look, I just wanted to…"

"No sir, that isn't what this is about." The woman interrupted him. "We have some news."

XXXX

Ross came into the house through the kitchen to find Seth, Julie, and Clara sitting around the table playing a spirited game of twenty questions.

"Bigger than the whole earth?" Julie said incredulously, and Clara nodded vigorously. "Yep! Bigger!"

"Daddy!" Clara ran across the room to give her father a hug when she noticed him. "Why are you so late?" she questioned him sternly.

"I had a meeting kiddo." Seth frowned at him, and Julie looked expectant. "Julie, do you think you could watch Clara tonight?"

"Uh, yeah, sure Ross. I can do that. I'll just need to call my boyfriend and cancel." She turned to Clara, "how does a slumber party sound?"

"Yay! Can we watch a movie? And make popcorn?"

"You bet. Let's go pack some stuff for you." She grabbed Clara's hand and whisked her down the hallway.

XXXX

After Clara had left with Julie, Ross sat down next to his husband on their couch.

"So, let's hear it. What's going on?"

"Witness Protection paid me a visit today."

"What? I thought you didn't have to see them again for five years." He thought about it for a few seconds. "Oh God. What happened? Are you…? Do we…?"

"No. No." He smiled at Seth. "I'm not a witness anymore. The serial killer that escaped - he's was found dead. I don't have to worry about it ever again."

Ross watched as Seth turned the information over in his head.

"So - what does that mean?"

"It means...it means I can reconnect with my old life, if I want to."

"Do you want to?"

"I…" he hesitated.

"What about your mom - the woman who adopted you? Ross, I know you think about her all the time. You've told me how much of a difference she made in your life."

"I want to see her more than anything. There are still times where it feels like I need her. She's in my dreams constantly. I want her to see what I've become. I want her to meet you and Clara, and I want for her to love you as much as I do. I want to know that she's doing well, and if she's not, I want to be there for her."

"So? What's the problem?"

"I just...I've been thinking. What if she doesn't want to see me?"

"She's your mother. Of course she wants to see you."

"It's not that simple. I really was nothing but trouble for her. I came into her life and was belligerent and mean at first. Then she spent the better part of a year putting up with my constant whining about a security detail I desperately needed. She was worried and fearful, _for me_, but should have been for herself too. She didn't even see her kids that year because of the threats that I brought into her life. I just - what if time and distance has given her the perspective that I wasn't worth it? I never really understood why she thought I was in the first place. And I wouldn't want to barge back into her life after she's realized all of that."

"Woah. Ross, listen. I'd say that getting and keeping Clara wasn't easy. Right? And she had her own set of problems. I mean she was definitely trouble."

"Yeah, ok…?"

"Is she worth it?"

Ross bristled at the implication. "Seth! God. Of course she's worth it."

"Maybe you are the one who needed a different perspective. You're a parent now. Tell me what you say to Clara every morning. It's something your mom said to you, isn't it?"

"'_You are loved. _Always.' That's the last thing she said to me before I left."

"OK. _Always_. It means something. Right?"

He thought of Clara, of what it meant to say it to her. "Yes, it definitely does."

"Well, it's settled then." Seth picked the phone up from the coffee table and handed it to Ross before standing to leave the room.

Ross stared at his phone, and then at the piece of paper Witness Protection had given him with phone numbers of the DA's office in LA. The people who could get him back in contact with her.

Seth turned around before he made it out of the room. "Before you call. Are you finally going to tell me your real name?"

"Seth, you know the only reason I never told you was to make sure you - and now Clara too - were safe. You know everything important."

"I know. But I think your name is important too."

His mouth grew dry as he spoke his forbidden name for the first time in fifteen years. He was nervous, but happy. "It's Rusty."


	4. Joy and Sorrow

**Notes:** Well, it turns out this has way more words than the other three chapters combined. Hopefully it doesn't seem too long-winded.

Also, I feel it necessary to say here that I'm not a Shandy fan...and this story reflects that, briefly, but also, I hope, sensitively. If the thought of Sharon and Andy not being together, or Sharon being with someone else is upsetting, I'm just giving you fair warning because I hate to upset people! Of course, this is 95% about Sharon and Rusty.

_Your joy is your sorrow unmasked._

_And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears._

_And how else can it be?_

_The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain. _

-Khalil Gibran, On Joy and Sorrow, _The Prophet_

**Joy and Sorrow**

It had taken three days. Three days to be put back into contact with her son. He was living in Albuquerque, somewhere Sharon had never been, living under the name Ross Haskins. They had spoken briefly on the phone, but Rusty wanted to fly back to see her in person before talking at length. Then he had insisted on renting a car and driving to her condo himself, despite _her_ insistence on picking him up. He won. So she spent the better part of the morning cleaning the already-clean condo, reading the same page in her book again and again, and obsessively checking his flight information, her heart sinking at a forty-minute delay that felt like an eternity. But now he was here.

"Hi, Sharon." His gaze was focused behind her at first, and then he slowly brought his eyes to hers while nervously playing with the hem of his shirt. Some things never changed. Behind him stood a very tall, large man and a little girl, but for now, Sharon's eyes were only on Rusty. He was older, definitely - a grown man well into his thirties, a little broader with darker hair, but he was still Rusty. The way he was standing there, uneasy and slightly uncertain reminded her of the first time she had brought him home with her. She hoped she could help him get over any initial awkwardness he felt by being in her home again over with quickly. They had missed too much for that.

"Rusty. Come here." He stepped into her arms without hesitation and they both started trembling. She held on tightly, getting as close to him as she possibly could, closing her eyes and stroking his hair. He lay his head on her shoulder and turned his face into her neck, his breath making it feel warm and slightly damp. They stood like that for several minutes, breathing in tandem. She stepped back only after she heard him murmur something unintelligible into her hair, and put her hands on his wet cheeks to look into his eyes.

"I've missed you so much." They said it simultaneously and fell into another embrace.

After several more minutes had passed, she was finally able to turn her attention to his companions, who she could see over Rusty's shoulder as she hugged him. They had remained quiet, both silently taking in the scene in front of them. The man was clearly moved, close to tears himself. The girl looked to be uncertain, eyes rapidly moving between the large man and the embracing pair. When she noticed Sharon looking at her, she ducked behind the man's legs.

"You didn't tell me over the phone that you would be bringing anyone with you."

Rusty pulled away and turned around while keeping an arm firmly around her shoulders. "I wanted to surprise you. That's why I didn't want you to come to the airport." He gestured towards the man. "This is my husband, Seth."

Sharon eyes widened in surprise and then she extended her hand, but Seth enveloped her in a hug, Rusty stepping away just a few inches to allow for it. Despite her great joy at seeing Rusty again, she had a momentary flash of sadness as she hugged her son-in-law for the first time. So much she had missed. So very much.

"Sharon, you have no idea how happy I am to meet you. Ross - uh - Rusty has told me so much about you."

"And this," Rusty pulled the child out from where she was hiding behind Seth and drew her close to his side, "is our daughter, Clara."

"Clara, this is Sharon...your grandmother." He glanced at Sharon, as if to ask "that's okay, right?" She gave him a look that she hoped communicated "Rusty, how can you even ask such a question? _Of course _it's okay." The fact that he even doubted it almost broke her heart, even as she looked at her new granddaughter with delight and surprise.

The beautiful little girl appeared to be around five or six years old, with lots of curly, dark hair. Her head was pressed shyly against Rusty's hip while her eyes were darting between her fathers, the ground, and Sharon.

"Hi, Clara." She smiled warmly at the child. "I have some toys and books in that chest over there for when my grandkids visit, would you like to take a look?"

Rusty gently nudged Clara towards the chest. "It's okay, kiddo." She hesitated only briefly before running over to it and began pulling things out.

Rusty and Seth were still hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

"Come in, come in!"

Rusty began sweeping his eyes around the condo. "You haven't changed anything, have you?"

Sharon shrugged. "I like it." Before Rusty left, she never redecorated because she hadn't had the time, although she would have liked to every so often. Now it was more like she didn't have the will. In a way, she was like the parents of dead or missing children who shut their absent child's bedroom door, never to change a thing. She'd seen it too many times. It was true that she had left Rusty's chess posters hanging in his room. Because what if he came home? That possibility had always been at the back of her mind, even as it became increasingly unlikely. The thought of him coming home and seeing that she had packed away or discarded the things that made this _his_ home was unthinkable.

His eyes landed on the coffee table. "The same coffee table books, even!"

She elbowed him gently. "Hey, Matisse never goes out of style."

He smiled sheepishly at her as her arm slid around his waist.

There was a long, awkward silence as the adults in the room tried to figure out how to move the conversation away from small talk. Rusty tilted his head toward Clara, then toward the door while making eye contact with Seth.

Seth took the hint immediately. "I'm starving. We haven't eaten anything but the peanuts on the plane since breakfast. Clara, what do you say you and I go out and get something for us all to eat. We can bring it back here for a late lunch."

"Can we get hamburgers?" It was the first thing Sharon had heard the girl say.

Sharon let out a snort. "She's her father's daughter."

"Tell me about it," Seth laughed. "Hamburgers okay with everyone?"

"Honestly, I haven't had one in a very long time, so that sounds great."

"Can I wear this?" Clara had put on a rainbow-colored wig that she found in the chest. "Please?"

"If it's okay with Sharon."

None of her other grandkids had been much into dress-up, so the wig sat mostly unused in the toy chest after Sharon had bought it.

"Absolutely. Just take good care of it, okay?"

"It won't leave her head, I can guarantee you that," said Seth. "Off we go!" He led Clara to the door.

"Don't you think this hair will look great with my sunglasses, Papa?"

"Hmmm. We'll just have to try it out. You put them in your bag, right? It's still in the…"

The door shut behind them.

"She's adorable, Rusty."

He smiled shyly. "Yeah, she is pretty cute, isn't she?"

Sharon nodded and returned his smile. Then the uncomfortable silence returned for a few seconds. Enough of that.

"Okay, Rusty - or do you prefer Ross now? Tell me _everything_," she implored as she pushed him gently towards the couch. _Everything_ was impossible, she thought sadly. But she still needed it.

"Rusty or Ross is fine. I've been Ross almost as long as I was Rusty now. But, it's very nice to hear Rusty again. Especially from you. I actually hated Ross at first. Witness Protection gave it to me. Ross was a character on some sitcom that was popular when I was born. My '_mother_,'" he brought his fingers up to make air quotes, "was a fanatic."

She rose an eyebrow at him, and he laughed.

"Yeah, they're big on backstory details. But, everyone I know calls me Ross now - and, well, you grow into a name."

"If you'd rather me call you Ross, honey, I..I can get used to it."

"No! No, no." He held up his hands to assure her. "That's not what I meant. Like I said, I like hearing it from you again. I've missed it. I've missed _you._ _so much_, Sharon."

Sharon felt her eyes beginning to sting and moved closer to him on the couch. She just couldn't help it. Being farther away from him than was necessary seemed unconscionable at the moment. He put his arm around her shoulders, and she was so grateful he was willing, even if he was nervous. She needed this.

"Remember how I thought I might like to be a journalist?"

Sharon nodded, also grateful that he seemed content to just keep talking.

"Well, the witness protection people told me it wasn't a good idea. Journalists can have too high a profile, or something like that."

Witness Protection was supposed to allow Rusty the chance to lead the life he wanted to live. He had been so enthusiastic about the journalism class he had taken at Santa Monica, she remembered, and once again sorrow crept over her heart at the thought of opportunities that had been unavailable to him through no fault of his own. But he continued talking, without any outward signs of his own sadness.

"So I went to school, and started out majoring in English, figuring I could still end up somewhere where I could write."

"Did you?" She was hopeful.

"I met Seth my sophomore year, and he was an education major. So I switched, mostly so I could take more classes with him. But I ended up really loving it. I teach tenth graders composition now. And I am the advisor for our school's student newspaper. So that's journalism in a way, right? I coach the chess club too."

"You teach high school?" She wouldn't have guessed that.

"Yeah, for nine years now. Like I said, I like it a lot. Teenagers get a bad rap, but most of them are really great. And it's nice to think that I can have some positive influence on their lives."

Sharon nodded, she could understand that.

"Tell me about Seth, you met him your sophomore year, so you've been together with him for what?"

"Almost thirteen years, married for eight. We started really slow, Sharon, I promise. He really was - and is - perfect for me. I can't wait for you to get to know him. He's a lot like you, actually."

"Did he…?"

"Know about me? Yeah. I pretty much told him everything after we had been together for a couple of years. I knew that we were going somewhere permanent, and I couldn't live with lying to him. Witness Protection would have freaked out if they knew just how much I told him."

Sharon nodded. From what she knew about Witness Protection, witnesses were never to discuss any aspect of their past lives with anyone for any reason.

"But there were things he needed to know in order to really understand me. I mean - I had some serious baggage."

He said it with levity and a smile, but Sharon knew the kind of conversations that were necessary for Rusty to have with someone with whom he wanted to be seriously involved were almost certainly fraught with difficult emotions and memories. She wished she could have been there for him through it all.

"And he needed to know there was a risk. A slight risk, but a risk. I tried to not give him any identifying details, to keep him as safe as possible. Even though I knew he cared about me, I was really quite surprised when he chose to stay. Especially because he couldn't tell his family anything, and he's really close with them, especially his sister. _They_ think _my_ entire family is dead. I've always felt bad that I was the reason he had to lie and keep secrets from them. It's been hard for him, and I think he's almost as happy as I am that the truth can finally come out."

"He was an education major too?"

"Yeah. He teaches fourth grade now, and he's great at it. His students love him."

"Tell me about Clara. She is adorable."

"Well, she'll be six years old next month, and Sharon, she's so smart you wouldn't believe it. I taught her to play chess already. And she's very imaginative - she spends most of her time pretending to one thing or another and loves to dress up. I know she seemed a little shy, but that's just because you're new. She'll be talking your ear off soon."

His nervousness had evaporated by now, and Rusty was beaming in a way she had never seen. It did her heart so much good in some ways. But in other ways, in selfish ways which she tried very, very hard to keep tamped down, it hurt too. So much lost time, so much had happened in his life without her to help him through his struggles and share in his joys.

"I'm so proud of you Rusty, and I'm so glad that you are happy. And that you made a family for yourself."

"I am happy. But Sharon, you need to know that I'm only happy because of you. You showed me that I was worthwhile. That I was capable of loving someone, and being loved back. I definitely wouldn't have what I do now if not for those three years with you. And living fifteen years without you, it was just...I...I..."

His voice trailed off, cracking on the last few words. His arm was still around her shoulders, but she was able to shift her body to face him, bringing her own arms up to hug him again.

"I know, honey, I know."

She closed her eyes, tears leaking out onto Rusty's shirt. Her own blouse grew damp as his tears began to flow freely as well. They sat like that silently holding each other, shaking, for a long time. Long enough for their tears to slowly come to a stop.

"Sharon?"

She opened her eyes. "Hmm?"

"Do you...do you know anything about what happened to my other mom?" She pulled away from him and he looked at her expectantly, with a bit of apprehension. He felt guilty for asking, she knew, and she felt bad that he always experienced that when they discussed Sharon Beck. The conflict within him of loving two mothers, one tied to him forever through biology and a shared history, the other who came to his life through tragic happenstance but whose love had been slowly built over time, would be with him forever.

Yes, she knew where his other mother was. She liked to believe that she still saw the woman because if Rusty ever made it home, she didn't want to have to tell him that his mother was missing again, or dead. Her other reasons were difficult to explain, even to herself. Especially when she sat across from her, as she did once or twice a year, even after all this time. Sometimes she had met Sharon Beck with a wall of bullet-proof glass between them, but usually they met at cheap chain restaurants, a wobbly table between them instead. Two women who shared nothing except a name and a son. Mostly, they would eat together while exchanging very few words, Sharon Raydor picking at a limp salad and Sharon Beck slowly chewing on a hamburger. She looked so much like him, moved so much like he did. It was often difficult to suppress a smile as she watched Sharon Beck eat her - _his _- favorite food. Other times it was an agonizing and somewhat disturbing reminder of something precious she had lost forever. Sharon often stared intently at the other woman, wondering if she, too, had a deep, Rusty-shaped hole in her heart - if that was something else that they shared. The only other person in the world who could possibly understand. How could it not be? They were both his mother; they were both human. But it was hard to tell, honestly. Sadly.

"Sharon?" She took too long to answer him and his guilty expression had deepened. "Sharon, I'm sorry. It wasn't your responsibility to keep tabs on her. I shouldn't have asked."

"No, no, Rusty. It's okay. Actually, I do know where she is. I kept track of her because I know that she is important to you."

He let out an audible sigh of relief. "Is she...I mean, how is she?"

"She's done mostly okay. In and out of jail at first, but over the last five or six years she's cleaned up as far as I can tell. I have a phone number and an address, if you want them."

He nodded. "I'll call her later tonight."

The nervousness had returned, and his leg started bouncing as he wrung his hands together.

"I think she'll be happy to see you, honey."

"Yeah, okay...what about you Sharon? I want to hear everything too."

She adjusted the fabric on the knee of her pants, unprepared for the sudden change of topic. "Oh, well. There isn't that much to tell."

"Oh, come on, Sharon. That isn't true, and you know it." The look he gave her was disbelieving. Maybe it was more like disapproving. Sharon suppressed a laugh; how many times had she given that very same look to her kids when she knew they weren't sharing as much information as she would like?

"You're right. I'm sorry, Rusty. I retired five years ago, as a commander." She would start with the objective. The facts.

Objectively, her life had gone relatively smooth after Rusty had left. But it had been very difficult for her emotionally. She wanted Rusty to know how much she had missed him, but she also didn't want to make him feel guilty. For leaving. For moving on, quite happily it appeared, without her.

"A promotion! You deserved it, Sharon. It should have happened way before I left. Congratulations. I bet there was a big party."

"Yes." She had gotten her promotion about three years after Rusty had left. The party _had_ been great fun, and she allowed herself more wine than she had in years. It had seemed safe to indulge for a happy occasion.

"Lieutenant Flynn and Lieutenant Provenza did some pretty hilarious imitations of me. Mostly hilarious, anyway." She laughed just thinking about it.

"Imitations of you doing what?"

"Oh...sending them to sensitivity training. Quoting LAPD rules. That sort of thing."

"I would have loved to see that."

He would have. Her heart grew heavy once again. The day was being filled with mixed emotions that she hadn't expected for their reunion.

His eyes wandered over to the pictures on her desk, and he stood up to go look at them. She never used to keep photos over there, but as her family grew, all the frames had started feeling cluttered in her bedroom. That much was different about her condo, at least. Photos of Ricky and Emily. Of her grandchildren. Of Rusty. And…

"Who is this guy with you in these pictures?" He grinned playfully at her. "I guess you never got together with Lieutenant Flynn."

She rolled her eyes, and then gave him a pointed, warning look while remembering the long-ago conversation they had had about boundaries and assumptions after that dreadfully awkward night at _The Nutcracker_. In truth, she had almost let it happen with Andy after Rusty had gone. He was there, available, and obviously willing. It would have been easy, too easy, to use him as a balm for her pain. But it would have been just that - using him. Using Andy's unrequited crush on his boss as a distraction from her grief was just wrong on so many levels. To begin with, she had never felt a romantic attraction to him, before or after Rusty had left. Yes, she had enjoyed his company, appreciated his friendship and his concern, but the thought had never crossed her mind that she might have a different sort of relationship with him, that is until it was forced to cross her mind the night of _The Nutcracker. _And ultimately, after thinking about it for a few months, even entertaining the idea briefly, her mind ended right back where it started. Andy was her subordinate, and a good friend that she enjoyed spending time with. Using someone for sex - it just wasn't who she was, grieving or not. As for the man in the pictures...

"His name is David. He and his daughter are in Europe right now, on a father-daughter trip they take every year. But we...uh...live together. Here. Happily. He is a veterinarian."

It was Rusty's turn to raise an eyebrow at her.

She had taken in a kitten. A small, scrawny little thing that she found meowing plaintively in the bushes outside her building just a few months after Rusty left. Perhaps it was a bit cliché, trying to fill the void of Rusty's absence with the helpless little creature. Ricky and Emily were amused. "All those years we begged and begged you for a pet…"

The truth was, she had never really considered herself an animal person. She liked the friendly dogs she came across well enough, but was never inclined to live with one herself, even if she had had the time. Cats were even more of a mystery; most seemed timid or not at all interested in people. But Pip almost seemed almost grateful to her if that was possible, and once she had trained him not to jump on the kitchen counters - an epic undertaking that involved ten rolls of double-stick tape as suggested by Julio - they got along well. She had decided that his presence was fine on her bathroom counter where he liked to sit lazily and watch her get ready for work every day.

Pip had sadly died last year, but Pip's doctor had wormed his way into her heart long before that. His first vet had been an incompetent disaster, and so David had been a breath of fresh air, which immediately started him off on the right foot - she appreciated people who were passionate and capable in their jobs. Pip had respiratory problems when he first came to live with her, and so she found herself in David's office frequently, making small talk about their kids and their jobs as he helped Pip get better. Once he _was_ better, Sharon found herself wanting to find some other excuse to take him to the vet, and after deciding that was ridiculous called David's office and asked if he'd like to go to dinner.

He was twelve years younger than Sharon, which bothered her at first, but pretty much after she had hit forty she had always felt younger than her years anyway. David didn't bat an eye at it, of course. There was so much to which he seemed endearingly oblivious, the stuff that she would rather he overlook, but he still managed to pay attention to everything important. When his youngest had gone off to college and David sold his house, Sharon had suggested he move in with her. Fortunately, he wasn't much the type for redecorating. He brought pictures of his kids, his clothes, and his own cat who had luckily gotten along well enough with Pip and was too old to even think about jumping on the counters. Everything else he owned was sold with the house.

"I had a cat for most of the time you were gone. He died about a year ago - David was his vet, and we just got along well from the start. I called him as soon as I found out we were going to see each other again. He wanted to get on a plane and come back from his trip early. He's really anxious to meet you. I told him that you'll still be here when he gets back next week."

She thought back to their phone call two days ago.

"_Now I will finally get to see you truly happy," he said excitedly._

"_David, you know I'm happy. I love you."_

"_Yes, I know that. But now everything will be __**complete**__ for you. Are you sure I shouldn't come home now? Adriana will understand. She will want to meet him too."_

David understood that something was missing from her life. A sadness enveloped her, always. Of course there were plenty of joyful times in their lives. Ricky's wedding. Her promotion. The births of each of her three grandchildren. The birth of David's first grandchild last year. But even during those happy times, especially during those happy times, her sorrow lurked beneath the surface. Rusty should have been there to experience it all with his family. Every holiday, especially Thanksgiving - as she had adopted him the day before - was difficult. No one could ever make the heartache go away. No one except her son. David loved her, so of course he was thrilled to hear that Rusty had resurfaced.

"Well, I can't wait to meet him, Sharon." Rusty gestured to some other photos. "And these must be your grandchildren...how are Emily and Ricky?"

"Ricky is married, still working with computers. And he has two boys. Max is ten and Jamie is eight. They live in San Diego now, so I get to see them every other month or so."

Ricky ended up being the child Sharon worried about the least. She never would have guessed it when Ricky was a teenager. A teenager who was easily manipulated by untrustworthy friends. A teenager who allowed his heart to be broken again and again by girlfriends and by his father.

Melanie had come along shortly after Rusty had left, and it was really her presence that took most of Sharon's worries about Ricky away. Melanie was quiet, but in a contemplative way; when she did speak, it was always something that was purposeful, meaningful, or even acerbic if the occasion called for it. She was good for Ricky, and the two loved each other deeply. And she couldn't have asked for a better mother to her grandkids.

Max reminded her of Ricky. A troublemaker, in a loveable sort of way, and with a heart of gold underneath it all, even if sometimes he had to be reminded of it. Jamie was only eight, but of her grandchildren, he most reminded Sharon of herself. He was quiet, like his mother, and thought before he spoke. His mind was organized and logical, and he was interested in history and in people. Sharon really enjoyed talking to him about books he had read or questions that floated through his head.

"Emily is in LA. She moved back here after an ankle injury and opened a dance studio."

It had happened at the beginning of her second season as a soloist. An injury so disastrous to a ballerina that it was unlikely she could ever dance professionally again. Emily had moved into the condo for a year, the first half of which she spent wallowing. Of course, Sharon was devastated for her daughter, but she had also secretly enjoyed it. Being able to mother someone through their problems and then watch them come out the other side whole, happy, and maybe even stronger than before was a great joy of parenting. And Emily did turn out to be all of those things. She loved entrepreneurship, and she loved helping all the little kids grow into the best dancers - and people - they could be.

Shortly after she had moved out again, Emily told her she was pregnant. Sharon hadn't even known she was seeing anyone, so it came as a great surprise to her. Emily had always been the more secretive of her children - at least until Rusty came along, and even Rusty had grown to dislike keeping secrets from her. To this day, Sharon still hadn't been able to get the whole story out of Emily; all she knew was that Emily was hurt and angry. Sophie's father was in and out of their lives, mostly out. He reminded Sharon of Jack, and it caused maternal guilt to well up inside her every time she saw him or even thought of him.

"Sophie, her daughter, is almost twelve."

"A dancer too, I bet?"

"No actually." Much to Emily's chagrin. "Sophie has zero interest in dance. That girl is a scientist, through and through. She just won her school's science fair last week." Sophie was a live-wire: immensely curious, perpetually fidgety, and never satisfied with a given answer until she had investigated it for herself. Since she lived nearby for her entire life, Sharon knew her granddaughter as well as she had her own children and loved her dearly.

"Well, I've only been a parent for a little over three years, but I've learned you've just got to let your kids follow their own path. Do you think I'm at all interested in dress up? I'm lucky Clara seems to have taken an interest in chess. But get this, she wanted to be a _police officer_ for Halloween for the last two years. Of all the things she could be."

Sharon grinned. "My granddaughter, obviously."

Just then, there was a knock on the condo door.

"Speak of the devil." Rusty got up to let his family back into the condo.

Clara was still wearing the rainbow wig, but it had been braided. She was also wearing a pair of large, pink sunglasses. The sunglasses did go with the wig quite well, Sharon admitted to herself with a laugh.

Seth looked at Sharon who was still on the couch, and then at Rusty. "Did we give you two enough time?" It sounded like a whisper, but was loud enough for Sharon to hear.

"For now. I'm really hungry now, though, so this is perfect. Clara, go wash your hands please."

"Where?"

"Down the hall, second door on your right." Clara started off down the hall and began to turn into Rusty's old room. "Your other right, Clara!"

Sharon watched her hold both hands up to make L-shapes with her thumb and index fingers.

Rusty shrugged. "We're still working on that one."

"Daddy! I can't reach the soap!" Clara yelled from the bathroom.

"I'll get a stool for her. Do you still keep one in the closet?" He had already opened the door. "Yep. Of course." His uncertainty about being home was rapidly disappearing, thankfully. He grabbed the stool and headed off to help Clara, leaving Sharon and Seth alone momentarily.

"I can set the table. Where do you keep your plates?"

"In the upper cabinet to the right of the dishwasher." He grabbed four plates. "Just put them here on the counter, I'll put them on the table. Glasses are in the upper cabinet to the left of the stove. What do you want to drink?"

"I bought a soda for Ross. Clara and I can just drink water."

"I have wine. There are a few beers in the fridge too, I think."

"Nah, no thanks. I figured out pretty early on alcohol makes Ross uncomfortable. I don't really even like it anymore. Water is fine."

She had only known about Seth for an hour now, but she liked him. He seemed to easily pick up on Rusty's cues, and was obviously sensitive to his issues. And he braided his daughter's rainbow wig - a sure sign that Rusty had picked a winner. She was so happy for her son.

Rusty and Clara returned from the bathroom and they all began to eat, everyone except Clara. She chatted animatedly - about her teacher, and her friends, books she liked to read, and her favorite movies. The child really was delightful. Seth and Rusty sat proudly listening to her, interjecting their own thoughts about things here and there, Sharon asking most of the questions.

Once Clara started concentrating on her food, Sharon was able to bring up the celebration she had promised everyone. "So, I was thinking. We need to have a party. Ricky wants to drive up with his family, Emily and Sophie can come over, David will be back soon, and I'll invite the old Major Crimes team. Is there anyone else?"

"No, I don't think so. Sharon, I really want to see everyone, but a party?"

"Rusty, when everyone heard you are back, it was very hard to keep them from coming over _today_. But I wanted some time for just the two of us, so I suggested a celebration later this week. Just a little one, I promise."

"I want a _big_ party! With a cake!" Clara had been listening intently to the exchange, and her food was once again forgotten.

"Clara, we're talking about a party for Daddy and Grandma, not you." Seth admonished her playfully.

"I disagree. We all have something to celebrate, including Clara. Cake is a great idea! What kind should we get?"

"Chocolate. With blue frosting." Clara started happily bouncing in her chair and the rainbow wig finally came off, her lovely real hair flying everywhere. Sharon couldn't wait to get her hands on it.

"_Blue_ frosting?" questioned Sharon while tilting her head towards the little girl and raising her eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion .

"Blue is my first favorite color. Then pink. Then purple."

"Color hierarchy is a frequent topic of conversation for us," Rusty deadpanned.

"I see. Well, I think blue frosting can be arranged."

"I guess if there has to be a party, then the Lieutenants are just going to have to redo their performance from your promotion party."

Sharon laughed. "If you insist. They'd love that, actually."

Rusty stood up to clear the table. "Clara, are you finished eating?"

"Yes. I'm full."

"Would you bring your plate and your grandmother's into the kitchen please?" Sharon handed her plate to her granddaughter and smiled as she watched her slowly and carefully carry it to Rusty who had begun to load the dishwasher. She and Seth moved over to the barstools.

"Can I help?" Clara asked Rusty.

"Sure. Why don't you load these glasses?"

Clara took a glass off the counter and started to put it on the bottom rack of the dishwasher.

"Glasses go on the top, Clara, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Sorry."

As Clara moved the glass to the top rack, it bumped against the plates with a loud clink and Rusty flinched at the noise before smiling down at his daughter.

Unexpectedly, Sharon began to feel a lump in her throat and tears forming in her eyes. She wasn't sure why, exactly.

"When I first came to live with her, your grandmother taught me how to do this." Rusty was speaking to Clara, but his eyes came up to meet Sharon's. "I was sixteen years old, though, so you have a good ten-year head start on me, kiddo."

That was why. The tears began to spill and Sharon brought a finger up under her glasses in an effort to wipe them quickly away.

Rusty came around to the other side of the counter and wrapped both his arms around her shoulders. She leaned her head into his chest, laughing and crying at the same time.

"I'm sorry, honey, it's just...I've missed you so much - and I'm so proud of you."

"I know, Sharon. I get it."

**I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this story, especially those who offered their kind words and encouragement. Also, if anyone has any constructive criticism, I'm open to that too. *gulp* I'm not sure if I'll be publishing anything more, but if I do, I'd like to improve.**


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